


to rest the body and nourish the mind

by Azureflowers



Category: Persona 5
Genre: 5+1 Times, Fluff, I guess this can be considered, M/M, Sleepy Boys, because I can relate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-11 13:38:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11715498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azureflowers/pseuds/Azureflowers
Summary: It's no secret that Mishima isn't great at maintaining a healthy sleep pattern. Akira makes it his mission to nudge Mishima in the right direction every now and then. If only it were as simple as casting a Dormina spell...Or "Five times Akira helped Mishima sleep and one time he needed the help himself".





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I slept 14 hours last night (this week was wild haha). So, to celebrate a good night's sleep for a change, I decided to edit this little thing that has been sitting on my desktop for a while. I'm thinking of making it one of those 5+1 times fics since I've always wanted to try out those, but I still need to decide a couple of things before tagging it as such.

Mishima didn’t even seem to notice when Akira walked to his desk, and that was the first sign that he wasn’t quite himself: usually Akira didn’t have to do much to get Mishima’s attention. When standing awkwardly next to his friend and saying his name didn’t do the trick, Akira tried waving a hand in front of his face. Mishima recoiled like the other had just magically appeared from nowhere.

“Oh god, don’t startle me like that…”

Akira returned his hands to his pockets. “You’re looking pretty rough. Was the test that bad?”

Mishima blinked a few times at the blackboard, as if it could provide him with information needed to answer Akira’s question.

“…I…don’t remember a single thing I just wrote on that paper. Which test was it, again?”

“Contemporary literature.” It was one of Mishima’s stronger subjects, so Akira had assumed he would take a break from studying to catch up on sleep the previous night.

“…Oh, right.” Mishima covered his mouth with his open hand and let out a massive yawn. “Some smartasses thought it was a great idea to post about nine hundred god-awful memes on the Phan-Site at 2 A.M. It took hours to clean that mess up…” He made a face. “Ugh, prolly some NEETs who have way too much free time…”

Mishima turned to look at Akira. His gentle, half-lidded face was kind of adorable, even though those black circles were something awful to look at…

“Did you come to ask about requests? Sorry, I haven’t found anything promising yet, but I can check out the new posts before the exams end tomorrow and-“

“That won’t be necessary. Actually, I’ll hold on to this for a while,” Akira said, swiftly snatching the phone Mishima had just fished from his bag. Mishima stared at his empty fingers blearily for a second before his brain processed what had just happened.

“Wha- hey!” He complained weakly as Akira pocketed the device.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give it back… if you humour me and come to my place to hang out today.”

That woke Mishima up a little bit. He looked up at Akira with utter confusion.

“To your- as in, your house? Why?”

Akira shrugged, “Why not? We haven’t done anything in a while, so I thought it would be a good change of pace. We can study, too.”

Akira had expected more resistance but Mishima left it at that, averting his eyes as he nodded in agreement. Mishima had never been at LeBlanc before; the number of times they had done things not directly related to the Phantom Thieves was not very high to begin with, and the rare exceptions had always taken place somewhere out in town.

For once, it may have been a good thing that the train was packed: Mishima looked like he could fall asleep while standing, so he surely would have been knocked out cold if he got a seat in the pleasantly swaying car. Akira didn’t intend to have his friend fall asleep – yet.

 

* * *

 

Sojiro didn’t say anything besides his usual grunt of “You’re back” when Akira and Mishima entered the café, focusing on wiping the counter instead. The boys, on the other hand, went straight up to Akira’s attic room so as not to bother the clientele (which consisted of exactly two elderly ladies from the neighbourhood having their weekly fill of gossip). Mishima, whose curiosity had shaken some of the sleepiness off him, tried to look around as discreetly as possible. It was a valiant effort.

While Mishima was distracted by trying to take in every single detail in Akira’s room in a matter of seconds, Akira took the moment to silently congratulate himself on a job well done so far.

_Now for the final phase of the plan._

“Okay, we’re here. Why don’t you get some shut-eye first?”

“Excuse me? I thought you said we would…”

“Studying with someone who’s about to drop is a pretty wasted effort,” Akira explained casually as he rummaged the storage closet for an extra pillow, “You’re not going to be very helpful right now.” He found what he was looking for and tossed the fluffy object to Mishima, who caught it surprisingly easily. Even under Kamoshida’s bullshit coaching, some skills were bound to improve.

Mishima mumbled something that sounded like _then why did you invite me in the first place_ , but he settled on the sofa so Akira didn’t press the issue. He pointed at the more comfortable surface in the corner of the room.

“I don’t mind you using the bed.”

Mishima looked like he was scandalized by the very idea.

“I-I’m _fine_ here, thanks. I might not even fall asleep, you know, in a new place and all. Just going to rest my eyes for fifteen minutes, that’s it.”

It didn’t even take fifteen seconds. As soon as Mishima’s head hit the pillow, his breathing began to grow deeper and his face muscles gradually relaxed. He was out like a light.

_Mission accomplished._

Of course, Akira _could_ just have sent the other boy home after extracting a promise he would take a nap. But if there was something going on with the Phan-Site or something else, Mishima might still end up forgoing sleep and continuing to burn the figurative candle from both ends. This way, Akira could be absolutely certain that the time was spent appropriately. That was a valid reason, right?

…He had never seen Mishima’s sleeping face before.

It was completely different from every other face he had been shown: of course it was far from the tortured expression from when Kamoshida had still been at the school, but even when it was just the two of them, Mishima never looked quite like this. He did seem happy, but kind of high strung – never letting the silence sit for too long between them, always on the lookout for topics to discuss (90% of the time, it was Phan-Site this, Phantom Thieves that), always listening to Akira closely as if to catch the perfect timing to laugh at his jokes and react in a desirable way. Always…trying a little too hard for it to feel comfortable.

Now, he was like a different person. Completely at ease, all guards down. He was supporting his right cheek with his palm, which made the soft flesh push forward in an almost childlike manner. His closed eyelids were so still for once, Akira could practically count his eyelashes – well, if he had a considerable amount of time for the task. Mishima’s lashes weren’t particularly long, but there were a _lot_ of them. His breath came out in a steady rhythm, and his lips were parted just so…

Akira had already opened the camera app of his phone before it occurred to him that he was acting like a creep. Returning the phone on the table with some reluctance, he shoved his hands in his pant pockets and wondered what he should do. Starting to study without Mishima after practically forcing him to sleep somehow felt unfair. He couldn’t watch any movies or train, the noise would wake the sleeping boy up. Eventually, he settled on making some infiltration tools, those always came in handy. He left the door slightly ajar so Morgana could enter whenever he grew tired of gawking at the window of a nearby sushi restaurant, and settled at his work desk. He hummed to himself as he wound pieces of silk yarn around a tin clasp – he was gradually getting better with his hands, nowadays he actually managed to finish his lockpicks instead of just making a mess half the time – and glanced at Mishima’s peaceful expression every now and then.

He really should try this again sometime.

 

* * *

 

OMAKE:

Mishima felt himself emerge from the depths of sleep. He considered staying in the fuzzy dreamland but it was getting more difficult, like trying to stay underwater when your lungs are full of air. Eventually, he let himself wake up at a natural pace, slowly returning to the waking world as his body began to awaken with his mind. For once, no ear-piercing alarm to wrench him violently away-

When he heard a meowing cat, he knew something was off.

Now that he thought about it, the surface he was lying on wasn’t his bed. It was much harder and narrower. The scent of the room he was in was all wrong, too – his room never smelled like coffee and curry like this one did.

At this point, his brain began to provide him with helpful flashes of recent events to catch him up to speed. He had been invited to Kurusu’s place, gone up to his room and…nothing after that. He couldn’t recall anything about what they had actually done, or how he had gone home…

Wait.

A terrible idea just came to him. His eyes snapped open, and he saw Kurusu’s cat staring at him.

_Oh no_.

Mishima jumped to a sitting position and felt some stickiness on his right cheek. He totally had drooled, hadn’t he? It often happened when he completely blacked out, ever since he was a child. His hand flew to his face and he realised he probably had pillow imprints on his face, too. What did he look like? What time was it? How long had he been making a fool of himself like someone who lacked basic manners, _falling asleep_ when he was invited to Kurusu’s home? And why was Kurusu looking so _pleased_ about it?

Mishima vowed he would never let this happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and that's where you are wrong, Mishima.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so called out by the entire concept of this story considering I scraped by another week with 4-5 hours of sleep each night... Fortunately I'm now down to just one job so no more criminally early mornings, thank goodness. Just going to go in to do a favour for my now ex-boss on Monday evening because she is an actual certified angel.
> 
> I now have an idea for each chapter so I can go ahead and start writing the next ones. For now, have some sleepy boys in the summer.

Late July had brought with it both positives and negatives. On the one hand, it was summer holiday, which meant less time spent at school and more opportunities to hang out with friends, take shifts at part-time jobs and further the Phantom Thieves’ cause.

On the other hand, there was the heat wave.

The sun’s rays were like a deadly laser looking to punish anyone who dared to venture outdoors from air-conditioned spaces. The heat made the air shimmer and dark asphalt was so hot it was like walking on a rapidly heating stove. Akira would be lying if he said he wasn’t struggling. The heat never got quite this bad in his hometown. Even lying on his back in the blissful shade of a tree, not moving a muscle, he was unbearably hot.

To make matters worse, they had just started to explore Futaba Sakura’s Palace and… the Metaverse was _worse_ than reality, if possible. Of all the Palaces they had to raid, why couldn’t this one be a cognitive version of the arctic region?

Speaking of things that didn’t help with the heat…

“Grr… what do you know, anyways?”

Akira cracked one eye open to look at Mishima, who was glued to his phone once again, muttering curses at whoever was disagreeing with Phantom Thieves’ justice this time. When Akira had invited him for a relaxing afternoon in the park, this wasn’t exactly what he had had in mind. Lately, Mishima had been growing attached to the Phan-Site to the point that bordered on obsession, not to mention the oddly frantic glint in his eyes that appeared sometimes when he talked about targets and gaining the favour of the public. Akira wasn’t sure how to bring it up without having Mishima push him away, so for now he simply observed and hoped for the best. Maybe it was just the heat getting to his friend, plus the stress from the increased publicity. Hence the plan to relax.

Mishima let out a frustrated groan.

“First Akechi, then Medjed… We’ve had nothing but successes so far, so why does everyone have it out for us? It makes my blood boil!”

“I’m already boiling for completely unrelated reasons…” Akira mumbled, not really having the energy to join Mishima in his righteous anger. Mishima finally took his eyes off the screen and looked at Akira sympathetically. Seeing his chance, Akira continued,

“Seriously, give it a rest. No one can think straight in this weather, they’re going to complain no matter what you do.”

“I guess…” Mishima sounded reluctant, but he did put his phone down after connecting it to a portable charger. Akira was a bit disappointed that Mishima still kept the phone next to him instead of putting it to his bag, but he would take whatever small victories he could.

Mishima straightened his back (his spine cracked a little) and settled next to Akira with a deep exhale. For a few moments they both lay in silence, watching the strikingly blue sky poking between the leaves of the tree they were sitting under. At a distance, they could hear the rallying cries of a nearby high school’s baseball team. Someone really was dedicated or mad enough to practice sports even in this weather.

“…Maybe I should put some part-time money aside and invest in an electric fan,” Akira pondered aloud. The attic obviously hadn’t come with a pre-installed air conditioner and especially the nights had been absolutely torturous. He really didn’t want to bother Boss with it, considering everything that was going on.

“If you find a cheap one, hook me up,” Mishima said, “My room is like one of those tropical simulations they have in the science museum.” Akira was a bit surprised.

“I thought your place had AC.”

“We do, technically, but the compressor got burned out right at the start of the holidays. My father doesn’t want to call the repair service because he’s convinced he can fix the problem himself.” Mishima shook his head. "Plot twist: he can’t.”

Akira snorted at the unfortunate story. That made two of them then, suffering with the exhausting heat.

“I knew Tokyo could be intense this time of the year but I sure as hell didn’t expect…this.” He waved his hand vaguely.

“Huh. Was it different where you come from?”

“It sure was. It does get hot there, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that…” Akira stopped to consider for a moment how to best explain why the summer heat never was quite so hellish where he came from.

“The sky feels like it’s…wider, without all the skyscrapers. And the air is really fresh. The trains and buses are almost never so full you have to rub your bare arm against a stranger, that’s a big plus. But the best thing has got to be…the wind."

Akira reached out to his bag and took out the uchiwa fan that he had received from the rained-out festival. To demonstrate his explanation, he turned on his side towards Mishima and began to gently fan the other boy. Mishima, who had closed his eyes at some point, let out a satisfied little sigh that _probably_ had nothing to do with the shiver that ran down Akira’s spine. Akira subtly cleared his throat before continuing to talk while waving the fan up and down in a steady rhythm.

“There’s always a breeze coming from the sea.” Mishima’s forehead was covered by a thin sheen of sweat. “It rustles the leaves in the trees and bushes, and makes the wind chimes tinkle.” A small solitary drop began to run down his temple. “Everybody has wind chimes there.” Now it was stuck in the dip right above his ear. Akira was tempted to wipe it away with his finger. He had trouble remembering what he was supposed to be talking about.

To be honest, the arm holding the fan was starting to hurt from the awkward position, but Akira didn’t want to stop. He was afraid that Mishima would take it as a sign to open his eyes and, worst case scenario, decide break time was over and return to the Phan-Site again. Just when Akira was contemplating this dilemma, he heard a tiny but unmistakable snoring sound.

Well, would you look at that.

Akira lowered the fan on the ground and turned onto his stomach. He supported his head with his arms so that he kept his eyes on Mishima to fully appreciate the occasion. He had been thinking of ways to sneak some extra naptimes in his friend’s busy schedule, but Mishima seemed to have caught on to his plan and was determined to stay awake when in Akira’s company. This time, Akira hadn’t even been trying…maybe that was the reason why it had actually worked.

After a few minutes of observing, Akira realized he was getting sleepy as well – he hadn’t felt quite rested recently because of the suffocating heat. He gathered all of their belongings close to himself (taking extra satisfaction from placing Mishima’s phone _deep_ into the bag, where it could vibrate and flash its little lights as much as it wanted) and settled in a comfortable position before closing his eyes.

He still didn’t like the hot season, but… it wasn’t _all_ bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mishima is the first one to wake up and you bet he will privately gush over Akira's ridiculously attractive sleeping face.
> 
> I actually edited this already on Thursday, but before I got around to posting it I got an acceptance email for [this Akira/Mishima anthology](https://shuyuuanthology.tumblr.com/post/162611710228/how-beautiful-the-moon-a-shuyuu-anthology) and that threw me off my groove for a bit. I honestly didn't see this result coming (insert lame Last Surprise jokes here) and my first impulse was to reply with "ok but are you SURE" but I resisted because that's not how mature and professional adults roll. So...that's a thing I'm involved in now. I'm very excited and also a bit nervous. But mostly excited.
> 
> Thank you so much for the hits, kudos and especially the wonderful comments! I never would have even entertained the idea of applying for a collaborative project of any kind if it wasn't for the amazing response I've had here. Less than three weeks ago my fic writing "career" was officially dead and buried years ago and now there's all this stuff I'm eager to try out?? What I mean is, it really means a lot when someone takes the time to let me know they cared, even if just a little bit. It really can make all the difference. (I also welcome constructive criticism or rather "suggestions for future improvement" as I like to call it since criticism seems to be a really loaded word for some people.)
> 
> Long author's notes are still my trademark, some things apparently stay the same...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is… the culmination of a lot of stuff. It’s the turning point of the whole story, and also by far the most difficult one to write so far. For a lot of reasons.
> 
> There's some personal talk at the end of the chapter for those who want to know why I've been sitting on this for so, so long (it actually kind of relates to the themes of the story) but those of you who are here just for the chapter: do skip and/or ignore my ramblings! Sorry for the delay!

 

All signs seemed to indicate that the final night of the school trip would be less eventful than the previous one – no surprise guests crashing in their hotel room, and no sudden nauseous episodes. Having decided to call it a day after Ryuji’s “summer memories” plan hadn’t quite worked out as intended (hardly a surprise to anyone), the boys had returned to their respective rooms and pretty much gone straight to bed.

As he tucked himself in, Akira tried very hard not to feel so… let down. It was the _school trip_ , and a badly planned one at that – what had he been expecting?

Well, considering he roomed with Mishima, easily breaking the record of the most consecutive hours they had spent together since they had met five months ago, he _had_ believed it reasonable to expect they could have at least one proper conversation that didn’t revolve around polls or requests.

He had been eager to spend time with Mishima – perhaps even more so than usual – partly because of a recent mission.

Just a couple days before the trip, the Phantom Thieves had entered Mementos and sought out Mishima’s Shadow. Akira had been more nervous than he liked to admit. It was a scary thing, after all, to go meet the embodiment of the ugly hidden emotions of someone you held dear, not to mention possibly having to fight them… Akira hadn’t verbalized his doubts to anyone, but he had privately wondered whether he really would be able to raise his hand against Mishima, even a twisted Metaverse version of him, if the moment came.

Fortunately that hadn’t been necessary. They had found the Shadow and talked with it, leaving it with words that encouraged Mishima to take initiative in changing the direction of his life. Akira had been convinced Mishima could do it, given the chance. He still was…even if he may have had a rather optimistic idea of the time required for any discernible change to occur. Mishima didn’t seem to be aware of anything that had happened in the Metaverse – which was to be expected, none of their targets knew what exactly had happened to them – but he also was as obsessed by the popularity of the site and the Phantom Thieves as ever. No sign of any self-initiated change of heart whatsoever.

Akira lay on his side and watched Mishima, who was on his own bed with his back to Akira, scrolling on his phone again. This wasn’t how he had pictured staying at a hotel room with Mishima would go at all.

“You shouldn’t look at your phone right before sleeping,” he muttered half-heartedly, the similarity to a nagging parent not lost on him. Mishima cocked his head in Akira’s direction, but didn’t stop scrolling.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

“…Nothing. G’night,” Akira said, turning around so that his back was facing Mishima’s. He turned off the bedside light and the room became dark save for the bluish glow from Mishima’s phone. Akira sighed and closed his eyes.

_Man_ , the disappointment he pretended not to feel really stung.

 

* * *

 

Akira wasn’t sure what had awakened him. Usually he slept soundly throughout the night, and he wasn’t currently hungry, thirsty or in pain. He didn’t feel like he needed to go to the bathroom, either. However, he was clearly awake.

He considered shrugging off the strange phenomenon as a meaningless coincidence, which it most likely was, but he had a feeling that he wasn’t the only one in the room who was in the waking world. He opened his eyes soundlessly and saw Mishima sitting on the other bed – not looking at his phone or anything, just sitting with his legs crossed and staring at the space in front of him Mishima’s bed was next to the window, and his profile was in clear view when illuminated by the street lights outside. Akira observed silently for a while, trying to decide if he should show that he was also awake. If Mishima had randomly woken up and was just about to go back to sleep, it would only be awkward for Akira to butt in.

However, when he heard a very distinct _sniff_ (and realised that it was the very sound that had woken him a few moments prior), he simply couldn’t help himself.

“Mishima? You okay?”

Mishima jumped at the sudden voice so hard that he nearly fell off the bed. He turned towards Akira for a fraction of a second before facing the other way again, obviously trying to wipe his eyes and cheeks with the back of his hand.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he croaked. A fine contender for the title of the most unconvincing statement of the year.

Akira got off of his bed and sat on the foot of Mishima’s instead, gently pulling his friend’s hand away to peer at his face. Red and puffy eyes, moist cheeks glistening from the light outside, slightly swollen lips – everything practically screamed the opposite of “fine”. All the irritation Akira had felt before sleeping was gone, now replaced with concern and a will to fix whatever it was that was causing this.

“Does it hurt anywhere? Is your stomach still acting up?” Akira had begun to trace random shapes on Mishima’s palm with his finger to distract him. Mishima took a long, shaky breath before replying.

“It’s nothing, honestly.” _Sniff_. “I just…had a really stupid dream.”

Akira didn’t say anything at first, waiting for Mishima to elaborate. When it was clear there was no explanation forthcoming, he tried the first logical guess that came to mind,

“…About Kamoshida?” Akira could imagine how one could have pretty intense nightmares about something like that even long after the fact. To his surprise, Mishima shook his head.

“No, not him. I mean, he does show up from time to time, but I’m used to that. This is…different.” Mishima’s eyes were looking somewhere to his lower left. His expression became conflicted and a couple fresh tears trickled down his wet cheeks. Mishima used his free hand to wipe them away, but at this point, it didn’t make much of a difference.

Akira’s finger drew little spirals across Mishima’s palm as he considered this new information. Something more upsetting than Kamoshida, then. Maybe some bully Akira wasn’t aware of? A friend or a family member getting hurt?

“You can tell me,” Akira offered, his voice barely more than a whisper.

For some reason, Mishima laughed at that, but it was a hollow and joyless sound. He clasped Akira’s hand between both of his and met Akira’s eyes with an expression that was half pleading and half defiant.

“Kurusu…I dreamt that I got a calling card from the Phantom Thieves.”

All of Akira’s ongoing thought processes came to a screeching halt. He opened his mouth to ask if he had misheard, but Mishima began talking again.

“That’s…all there is to it, really. I’ve seen the dream a few times now, and it’s always the same pattern. I get a calling card and I know exactly what it says and I try to run but I know there’s no way I can get away and…” he paused to swallow, and Akira felt Mishima’s hands tremble ever so slightly.

“…and, I see flashes of masked people around me and I try so hard to escape but it’s useless, I know that… And, and I know I shouldn’t even run to begin with because everything it says on the calling card is _true_ anyway and I deserve it and it’s no use to complain but…”

He was like a runaway train now. His death-grip on Akira’s hand was getting painful, but Akira barely noticed.

“…but this time it _changed_. I was surrounded and they were about to get me and they all were smiling behind the masks and I knew it was going to be all over soon but then _you appeared and_ …”

Mishima cut himself short and shut his mouth tightly. He let go of Akira’s hand and wrapped his arms around himself to contain the flood of emotions threatening to break free. When that plan fell apart in about three seconds, he leaned forward as if doubling over in pain, and his face was pressed onto Akira’s chest. The next sounds from him were just a garbled mess, so Akira didn’t get to hear what his dream self had actually done.

To be honest, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Because of it, Mishima was now clinging to Akira as if for dear life, crying unlike Akira had ever seen him cry before. Actually, Akira realised, he had never seen Mishima cry. Almost in tears yes, but never…this. He was glad the lights were off. This moment, this raw vulnerability, shouldn’t be exposed to the harsh light of day. Like an open wound, it seemed to scream _leave me alone_ , not to be touched, not to be disturbed.

_(“You just_ had _to get close to me…!”)_

Yes, Akira had been nervous to go meet the Shadow. He had seen so many Shadows already, some repugnant, some pitiable, and he had been afraid to pull the curtain hiding the face of darkness inside Mishima.

But when he had stared into the unsettling yellow eyes and listened to the poisonous words spilling from the Shadow’s lips, even then…

He had nothing but compassion.

It was that same compassion that swelled in Akira’s chest as he looked at Mishima, cornered and desperate like his Shadow taunting Akira to _come at him already_ , all the while trembling in fear. As Akira carefully wrapped his arms around Mishima, he hoped that the embrace reached all the way to the ever so lonely shadow inhabiting the dark depths of Mementos.

Mishima’s face was now resting against Akira’s left collarbone. He was beginning to calm down, and his arms had also found their way around Akira’s back at some point. Akira might have been excited about the proximity had the circumstances been different, but for now he simply stored that thought away for a more opportune moment.

“You’re not a target,” he whispered next to Mishima’s ear, and Mishima startled a bit at the sudden sound. Akira held on to him a little tighter. “Hearts can be changed in more ways than just one. You already know what you have to do.”

Mishima’s shoulders tensed a bit as he released another sob, but this one was calmer than earlier, and it carried an air of relief rather than despair. His breathing soon settled and he relaxed against Akira.

It was difficult to grasp the passage of time in the darkness. Akira only knew that the sounds of the occasional passing cars had become increasingly rare, and they might as well have been the only people in the entire hotel judging by the silence. He felt the front of his shirt sticking to his skin, and he was beginning to feel a bit worn out. He had only had a couple hours of sleep that night and it definitely wasn’t enough, especially with the remaining effects of jetlag. He just wanted to make sure that the crisis was over so he whispered to get the other’s attention.

“Yuuki.”

Akira realised his mistake almost immediately after the telltale word had slipped from his lips, and it took a lot of practised self-restraint not to have an audible reaction to it. He had never called Mishima by his first name (save for a few particular daydreams that were better off unexplored at the present moment), but the unreal atmosphere of the night time hotel room and the warmth of Mishima’s body against him had flipped a switch in his brain that bypassed all the filters he normally had.

After a moment of trying to decide how embarrassed he was about the slip of the tongue, Akira noticed the suspicious lack of reaction from Mishima. He had expected Mishima to freak out at least a little bit at the sudden first name basis, unless…

His body did feel strangely heavy, and the deep breathing sealed the deal: the boy was fast asleep. It was a welcome sign of Akira’s success in offering emotional support, but now he had no idea how to get to his bed without waking Mishima up.

After ruminating over his dilemma for a while, he decided it was best to get Mishima on his side so Akira could then kind of slip away before relocating himself to his own bed. He put the plan to motion right away, carefully tilting them both sideways until they collapsed gently on the bed. Akira waited completely still for a moment trying to gauge if Mishima had woken up, but his breathing continued at an even pace despite the interruption. Good.

Just as Akira was began to pull away, Mishima muttered something unintelligible and began to stir. Before he knew it, Akira found that Mishima’s arm was snugly wrapped around his waist and one of Mishima’s legs had snaked its way around Akira’s as if that was the most natural place for it to be. Not that Akira really _minded_ , but his plan to slip away unnoticed had suffered a mortal blow. Sighing, Akira resigned to his fate and closed his eyes, trying to use this chance to get some rest.

 

* * *

 

OMAKE:

“Whoa, what happened? You look like you didn’t sleep a wink last night!”

Akira wondered if Ryuji actually picked these awkward moments to be observant on purpose, or if it was just a natural talent.

“It is rare to see you sporting such black circles. Did you have trouble sleeping?” Yusuke joined in.

Well, it had been a bit challenging to fall asleep with Mishima in his arms. Akira wasn’t used to sharing a bed with people – even just having Morgana curled up on top of him disturbed his sleep, let alone another human being. His left arm trapped under Mishima’s head had soon become numb and although he wasn’t a particularly restless sleeper, he did like to adjust his position every now and then, which had been impossible in that situation. Of course there also was the cursed blessing of having Mishima’s limbs tangled with his, Mishima’s steady breath tickling his throat, the scent of Mishima’s hair in his nose...

Still, Akira would have accepted all of the discomforts of the night gladly if it wasn’t for the morning. He had woken up to a beet-red Mishima leaping out of the bed, barking out a few hurried apologies and locking himself to the bathroom where he took a shower so long it probably caused a spike in the hotel water fees. He only had emerged when it was almost time for check-out, and had continued to avoid Akira like the plague for the rest of the morning. It was as if the intimate atmosphere of the night had never been there in the first place.

“Hey, you guys!” Ann walked over to them, so peppy that she clearly had had her breakfast already. “If you already returned your room keys, we’re supposed to go to the meeting spot and wait for the airport shuttle. Yusuke, what time is your… uh, are you okay Akira?” Ann stared at him with an expression that was two parts curiosity and one part worry.

“Apparently he had a sleepless night,” Ryuji shrugged.

“Huh. What kept you up? Ryuji told me that right after sunset, you went back to your room with Mishima-ku-“

Ann stopped mid-sentence, and her head turned in the direction where Mishima had been stealing glances to the group at a distance. When his eyes met with Ann’s, Mishima promptly returned to pretending to be looking at his phone, but the flustered look on his face and his stiff posture completely gave him away. Ann looked at Akira again, then raised an eyebrow and gave a weirdly knowing hum.

“Well, you can take a nap in the plane. Let’s go, guys!” Ann’s voice was just a smidge too chipper to be natural.

Akira sighed and rubbed his sore neck. He was pretty sure he had just witnessed Ann jump to a very incorrect conclusion about his nocturnal activities, but trying to explain himself would only have made the situation worse so he decided to let it slide. Besides, he couldn’t very well tell the truth, either – not the whole truth, anyway. It was something way too personal and important to carelessly share with others, even fellow Phantom Thieves.

_It was meaningful_ , he reminded himself. No matter how embarrassed he had been about it afterwards, Mishima – no, Yuuki – had depended on Akira at his moment of need. Furthermore, now it was evident that meeting Yuuki’s Shadow had had an effect in the real world, even if it hadn’t been quite what Akira had been hoping for. While he didn’t enjoy the idea that he was complicit in making putting so much stress on his friend, he also knew that the root of the problem would not disappear unless Yuuki faced his Shadow himself. All Akira could do was watch over him and be there for him when the burden got too heavy.

As many times as it would take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I want to make shorter notes… so here’s 900 words orz
> 
> I originally got an idea for this chapter when I got sick last August. I had a clear vision of how it would play out while I was shifting in and out of consciousness (I had a fever of about 39° Celsius at the time) but of course I forgot about most of it by the time I was well enough to actually sit up and write, haha. I really struggled to “get it right” and kept rewriting, editing, erasing. There are still parts I’m kind of iffy about, but that can’t be helped. Still, the whole thing was probably 85% done in like…October. So why did it take me 9 more months to publish?
> 
> 2017 was an…interesting year for me. A lot of great things happened and I learned a lot, but… I think I learned the most about my shortcomings and limitations as a person. There’s honestly no grand narrative here, no big drama or anything. Just… a lot of little things piling up and a constant exhaustion especially during the latter half of the year. I had a full-time (paid!!) internship position that I had wanted for about 4 years and really wanted to do well at, and at the same time I was working on my MA thesis which I also wanted to do properly – I was genuinely surprised when the supervisor greenlit my topic, and I was (am) really fired up about it. Et cetera.
> 
> In order to keep up with all of this, I quickly developed a nonsensical schedule that led me to preposterous ideas like “oh yeah I can totally pull off 10+ hour days with about 3 hours of sleep for like half the time right?” Strangely enough, it did sort of work. I was praised a lot at work, I met my deadlines for the thesis, and still managed to make time for social activities. I kind of doubled down on the last part after a really good friend of mine made an offhand remark of how I was always so busy we never had time to meet. She 100% did NOT mean to guilt-trip me with that, but I felt like a shit friend anyway, and made some time on my off days. I think between mid-August and late November, I had like two (2) days when I didn’t have any explicit plans. And I’m the kind of introvert whose idea of a good time is not meeting anyone and chilling at home all day.
> 
> Of course I didn’t manage without any kind of averse effects. While I managed to do well at the obligatory stuff, I started getting kind of forgetful with my private life (there was one particularly “fun” incident involving my flute, which is the single most expensive material item I own – all was well in the end, but that was a goddamn MIRACLE). I was super tired all the time, and sometimes when I went to take a nap for 15 minutes, I passed out for 4 hours (despite multiple alarms) and woke up feeling nauseous. I was weirdly sensitive, like suddenly starting to cry in the supermarket because I didn’t want to go to a social gathering that evening. (I went anyway. It was fun.) All of this happened to coincide with an unusual weather phenomenon: winter is generally pretty dark where I live, but last December they recorded a total of 15 minutes of sunlight in my town (usually there’s about 14 hours). I literally did not see the sun for a whole month except like, twice. For less than 5 minutes. Pretty fitting for my general mood, honestly.
> 
> The stupidest thing about this whole ordeal was that I blamed myself for not being able to do more. “Other people are tired too, other people have it worse, don’t you dare complain.” I was and still am fully aware that even at my worst, I am in a pretty good situation financially, mentally, societally. But the fact that my stupid pride and superficial desire to look like a Successful Young Adult made me forget the wisdom of “pain is relative”… really makes me a dumbass in retrospect. 
> 
> The internship ended at the end of the year, and I turned in my thesis research proposal about a week later. After that, I took like seven steps back and re-evaluated my life, because what I had been doing so far wasn’t sustainable in any way. I let go of a lot of things, including some that I really enjoyed such as writing, if they were somehow weighing me down at the moment. I feel I've generally been much happier this year.
> 
> Everyone has different circumstances, so this isn’t a “this is how you, too, can change uwu” thing. It’s not meant to be ~inspirational~ or fishing for sympathetic comments (although you’re free to address it if you want). I just… wanted to get it out somewhere, and it’s easier to talk about this when people I know IRL probably won't be reading it. Long story short, me writing this fic continues to be the height of hypocrisy and I teach fictional characters lessons that I am personally trying and failing to learn while almost a decade older. My sincerest thanks to those who have been leaving kudos and comments throughout the months of radio silence. You’re the ones who kept me wanting to return to this eventually, no matter what happens.


End file.
